


home is the nicest word there is

by sheisraging



Series: little windows [5]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Boys Being Boys, Domestic, Domestic Avengers, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Humor, M/M, Pranks and Practical Jokes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-24
Updated: 2015-02-24
Packaged: 2018-03-14 16:21:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3417404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sheisraging/pseuds/sheisraging
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes they’re just obnoxious to each other for the sake of being obnoxious. It must be some left over behavior from years of being in each other’s pockets. Playmates, schoolboys, roommates, army boys, lovers – there’s a lot of relationship in there. The others don’t even try to pretend they get it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	home is the nicest word there is

**Author's Note:**

> Much thanks, as always, to [Ignited](http://archiveofourown.org/users/ignited/pseuds/ignited) for the beta.
> 
> Title comes from a quote by Laura Ingalls Wilder.

Steve’s slouched low on the sofa in the common room. He looks relaxed and comfortable, his feet kicked up on the table, blanket tossed over his lap, eyes low but still focused on the documentary he’s watching.

Bucky sidles over with a bowl in hand, slowly stirring a spoon through it. He drops down beside Steve, thigh to thigh, and tugs the blanket until it’s tucked around them both. Steve’s arm settles heavily around Bucky’s shoulder. It’s quiet for a few minutes and then Steve’s brow furrows. He sniffs a few times and then looks over at the bowl as Bucky shovels the spoon into his mouth.

“What are you eating?”

“Hot dogs and beans,” Bucky answers, the corner of his mouth curling up in a smirk.

“Aww, Buck.”

“Oh yeah, Rogers, pay back’s a bitch,” he replies, looking Steve directly in the eye as he hefts a heaping spoonful into his mouth.

\---

Bucky tosses his towel in the hamper, and then heads out to straighten up the wrecked kitchen. He pours himself a bowl of cereal and slides onto a stool at the counter. Shortly after, Steve comes padding out of the bedroom and pushes his face into Bucky’s still damp hair.

Bucky laughs and presses his palm to Steve’s face, shoving him away. “Coffee’s on.”

Steve drags his hand along Bucky’s back as he heads toward the coffee maker and pours them each a mug. He sets them down on the counter and turns to get himself a bowl when a knock at the door interrupts the quiet mid-morning lull.

“Since you guys bailed on running with me this morning,” Sam says as Steve leads him into the kitchen a few minutes later, “Thought I’d drop by and see if you were up for a late breakfast, but I see you’ve already started.”

He nods at Bucky with a grin.

Bucky waves back, spoon in hand. “Welcome to join us, though.”

Steve slips out of the room and disappears into the pantry while Sam shrugs out of his coat and drops it on the sofa. He’s about to hop onto the stool across from Bucky when Steve returns with a bottle of surface cleaner and a handful of paper towels, intending to wipe down the counter.

Sam gives him a confused look. “Oh hey, sorry man. Did I interrupt cleaning day or something? I thought people usually saved that for Sundays.”

“Yeah, but…” Steve gives a helpless shrug, cheeks tinged pink.

“We just fucked on this,” Bucky says, shoveling another spoonful of cereal into his mouth.

\---

“Okay, who wanted ice cream?” Steve asks, holding up a bag of ice cream sandwiches.

“I do, I do, Ice Cream Man,” Tony cries out with mock enthusiasm.

Steve rolls his eyes and tosses a sandwich his way. “Anyone else?”

Sam holds up a hand. “Might as well.”

He tosses one each to Clint and Natasha.

“Don’t I get one?” Bucky asks.

“Best for last, Buck,” Steve grins.

Bucky catches the ice cream sandwich Steve tosses at him one-handed and flips him off with a smirk. Steve winks and turns to throw the empty bag in the trash.

“Hey, where’s yours?” Bucky asks.

Steve waves a hand. “I’m fine.”

“No, have mine, or, here, we can share it,” Bucky offers, starting to break his snack in half.

“Nah, Buck really, I’m okay. You have it,” Steve laughs, “I’m actually not that hungry.”

Bucky shrugs and looks around at the seating arrangements. Steve showed up late for movie night, so for once, they're actually not sharing a sofa. Bucky's on one end of a three seater with Clint at the other arm and Natasha spread out between them, her head on Bucky's thigh, feet in Clint's lap.

Bucky moves to get up but Natasha presses her head hard against him, "You're not leaving," she murmurs, stretching cat-like and tilting her head back to look up at Bucky while pushing her feet into Clint's hands.

Steve gives him a shrug and drops down onto the adjacent sofa. He links their fingers where Bucky's drape over the armrest and gives them a quick squeeze before turning his attention to the screen.

Bucky huffs and slouches down a bit, continuing to let Nat use him as a pillow. He peels open his ice cream sandwich, folding the wrapper to the sides, and takes a big bite, turning back to the movie.

A few minutes go by and Bucky's attention is pulled away by the sound of Steve's laughter. He smiles to himself, turning to look over at Steve's face and that's when he sees it. The popsicle.

Slick and red, the stick held delicately between Steve's thumb and index finger as he slides it between his lips.

Steve pulls the popsicle out of his mouth slowly, hollowing his cheeks, the peek of his tongue visibly dragging along the underside as he does. He holds the tip between his lips and sucks for a moment before taking it into his mouth all the way to the base. Not once does Steve take his eyes off the TV screen.

Bucky’s jeans immediately are on their way from uncomfortably tight to embarrassingly tight. He reaches over the arm of the sofa and knocks the back of Steve’s hand with his own. Steve tilts his head very slightly in Bucky’s direction, opening his mouth and letting Bucky see his tongue as he drags top half of the popsicle up and down. Bucky widens his eyes and tries his best to convey a _‘what the fuck are you doing, I can’t jerk off right now’_ gesture. Steve’s lips quirk up at the corners and he half shrugs a shoulder, looking back at the screen and sucking the popsicle back into his mouth. With vigor.

Bucky shifts on the sofa, causing Nat to mutter and shove at him with her shoulders. Nobody else seems to have noticed the show that Steve is putting on, but Bucky can’t tear himself away as Steve pulls the ice pop in and out of his mouth again and again. When the top piece fully melts away, Steve slides it sideways between his lips, the juice making them glisten in the dim light of the room. Bucky’s mouth hangs open, one hand clenched to a fist on the armrest, the other failing to catch the melting ice cream sandwich that falls from his fingers and lands on Natasha’s forehead.

“What the fu–” Nat jumps up, grabbing a napkin off the table and wiping her face. She looks at Bucky who quickly drops his eyes and shakes his head, biting this inside of his cheek to keep from grinning.

Tony pauses the movie. “What’s going on?” he asks as the lights slowly come back on.

They look at Steve, who’s now just holding the popsicle in his lap, covering his face with one hand, shoulders shaking with silent laughter.

Bucky leans forward, resting his forearms on his thighs and ducking his head, “I think you all should leave,” he says with a sigh.

“What?” Clint asks, concerned, but rising off the sofa, “Why, what’s going on?”

“Yeah man, is everything okay?” Sam rises from his seat across the room and moves toward them.

Bucky puts out a hand as he stands up and grins, “Everything’s fine,” he reassures them over the sound of Steve’s no longer silent giggling.

“But Steve is going to suck me off now, and unless you all want to stay and watch,” he unbuttons and unzips his fly to prove he’s not kidding, “I think you should leave.”

Bucky climbs onto Steve’s lap in the flurry of motion and yelling as the team stumbles over one another to leave the room. He takes the remains of the popsicle from Steve’s hand and downs it in one bite, tossing the stick over his shoulder and shoving his cold tongue into Steve’s laughing mouth.

“Knew I could get you onto my sofa,” Steve rasps with a smile when they come up for air.

Bucky pulls back, planting his hands on Steve’s shoulders. “I can think of several ways you could have accomplished that without making me almost come in my pants.”

“Mmm, none of them would have been as fun, though,” Steve laughs.

\---

Sam takes them up to Costco to buy supplies for his upcoming family reunion.

They walk around looking up at the racks like tourists in Times Square.

"Who the fuck needs this much sour cream?" Bucky exclaims loudly, holding up a huge tub by its conveniently placed carrying handle.

Steve laughs at the aggrieved faces of the surrounding shoppers while Sam pushes them out of the aisle with the edge of his cart.

"Don't mind them. They're from out of town,” Sam explains.

"We are not," they respond, though the meaning isn't lost.

"Out of time. Not the same." Steve shrugs.

Bucky swings the sour cream container into Sam's arms and grabs Steve's hand.

They stop at the end cap of every aisle for a free sample, sometimes circling the aisle and going back for seconds when some microwaved concoction strikes their fancy.

Bucky smirks whenever the attendant warns about waiting for things to cool down. He twirls his metal fingers over the tray, as if this is the most important decision he'll make today, and stuffs cocktail wieners into his mouth with a grin while the attendant looks on, thoroughly unimpressed.

In an aisle full of children's toys, Steve puts a tiara with pink feathers on Bucky's head and smiles.

Bucky picks up a box of Crayola Washable Markers. "Says they wash right off," he notes, reading the label on the back, "Think it's true?"

"What can we test it on?" Steve asks, looking around. He misses Bucky opening the box and flipping the cap off the purple marker.

Steve turns back as Bucky lifts his hand and draws a line down Steve's nose, silently shaking with laughter the entire time.

Steve's mouth hangs open, shocked.

Bucky drops his arm and takes a step back, snorting not at all gracefully.

"Really?" Steve says with a disbelieving tilt of his head.

Bucky bites his lips, and nods. "Looks good," he says, but can't manage to get it out without breaking into a fit of giggles.

Steve grabs for him and wrenches the box away. They laugh and scuffle, chasing each other through the aisles.

They catch up to Sam on the checkout line.

"We probably have to buy those," Bucky says, casually tossing the box of markers into Sam's cart.

Sam looks up and freezes. "What. The. Fuck."

Steve grins and shrugs in that way he has and Bucky wonders how someone can still manage to be charming when they've got a cat nose and whiskers drawn on their face and the word ‘ASS’ written on their forehead in huge purple letters.

"Fart Master?" Sam asks, looking at the green ink on Bucky's own forehead.

"He is," Steve nods, solemnly.

"I am," Bucky agrees.

"You have eighteen hearts on your face, man," Sam says, pointing at Bucky, before he turns to Steve, "and you look like a child's birthday gone wrong."

Bucky tilts his head down to his chest. "Ma's mad at us," he whispers from the side of his mouth.

"She's gonna send us to bed without supper," Steve whispers back.

Sam rolls his eyes and shakes his head. "Fucking super soldiers," he mutters under his breath as he unloads his cart onto the conveyor belt.

\---

They aren’t looking for it when they find it.

It was supposed to be just a day trip, an excuse to explore those parts of the city that they'd never really gotten to before. They wind up on City Island, wandering hand in hand down the quaint tree-lined streets. They laugh their way through kitschy antique shops, eat fried shrimp surrounded by screaming seagulls, and stroll through the village’s small Nautical museum.

They’re ambling down a quiet street near the water when the woman approaches them.

"Are you here for the Open House?” she asks hobbling over the cracked sidewalk in her too high heels and extending her hand. "You're the only ones I've had all week!"

They look at the small, cottage style house they’ve stopped in front of. The cedar wood shingles could stand to be replaced. One of the bright blue shutters is askew. The small fence around the property dips and slants as it spans, and its closing gate across the front walk doesn’t quite meet its lock.

Bucky looks at the blue door with a small smile and trails his fingers along the fence post. He and Steve exchange a quick glance, as their eyebrows quirk and shoulders lift.

"Sure are!" Steve takes her hand with a bright smile.

"O-oh," the woman stutters when she properly looks them over, "y-you're... and you... Oh my!"

Steve ducks his head as Bucky knocks their shoulders together.

"Yes, ma'am," Steve nods.

“Oh, please, call me Nina. And you must let me show you something else! I have much better properties than this,” she gestures at the small cottage, “Please, let me–"

“No,” Bucky starts, “If it’s all the same to you, ma’am, we’d like to see this one."

Nina looks at their smiling faces and shakes her head with a sigh. “Very well, just–” She gently kicks a bit of broken concrete from the sidewalk out of the way. “Watch your step."

It’s not huge - two bedrooms, two baths. The floors are real wood and have held up nicely, though they could probably use a polish. The kitchen is large and has windows facing out into the small, fenced-in yard that overlooks the water.

Bucky opens closet doors and trails his fingers along the walls where paint is chipping away. He wraps his hand around a support beam in the living room area and swings himself around to gently bump into Steve.

“Needs some work,” Steve says, still taking it in.

“Nothing like a fixer-upper.” Bucky smiles.

“Vacation home?” Steve asks, looping his arm around Bucky’s waist and walking them toward the sliding doors in the living room that open into the backyard.

Bucky flips the lock on the door and slides it open, taking Steve’s hand leading him outside. They walk to the edge of the property and look out at the water.

“It’s so quiet here,” Bucky notes, looking around. There’s a good amount of space between neighboring houses in this little nook. The sounds of the city are muted, far away. Instead there’s water and birds, wind through grass and trees, the occasional boat speeding or plodding through the water. He smiles. “I could use a vacation.”

They pick up the keys from Nina’s office ten days later and within a few visits, the fixer-upper is looking almost as good as new. They spend a weekend replacing the outside wood panels. Steve re-hangs the shutters and puts a fresh coat of blue paint on them, as well as the front door. Bucky polishes the floor and preps the walls for fresh paint. They sprawl out on the paint tarp that night, exhausted from the day’s work, and fall asleep on the hard wood floor.

Bucky wakes up rested and alone. The smell of coffee wafts into the room, so he knows Steve is somewhere close by. He rolls over and looks at the wall they’re going to paint this morning and sees that there’s a huge blue heart painted right above where he’s been sleeping. He should be annoyed, he did just prep that wall yesterday, but he just smiles like a fool.

They have half the room done by late afternoon, distractions keep them moving slowly, blue handprints on their bodies and streaks of color in their hair. By the time they're done, the light has changed, gold filtering in through the unshaded windows.

Steve drops his paintbrush in the bucket and looks up, sees Bucky wiping sweat away from his brow, pushing his hair away from his face. He mulls it over, thinking - what if they could just stay? What if home is this little house with blue shutters and it’s not Brooklyn or Manhattan or D.C. and that’s okay because they’re both here? What if they can have that, now, because… because they can.

Because they deserve at least this. Because there’s nobody they have to ask except each other.

Because that’s all that matters.

“Hey,” Bucky calls, quietly breaking Steve from his reverie.

Steve smiles back, “Hey.”

“What are you day dreaming about?” Bucky grins, pressing up against him, arms winding around Steve’s waist.

Steve shrugs and ducks his head a bit, presses their lips together, then rests his forehead against Bucky’s. “Dunno, the future, I guess.”

“Yeah.” Bucky chuckles. “It’s pretty fucking great.”

Steve kisses him again and smiles a little.

\---

They don’t tell the team about the house; they just start taking weekend trips. Clint calls them romantic getaways, Tony snorts and says it’s probably more like sexcapades. Sam claps them each on a shoulder, says he’s glad they’re both taking some needed time to themselves and Bruce quietly agrees. Natasha watches them like a hawk and says nothing at all.

They go mattress shopping in Co-Op City. Steve presses his palm flat into the surface of each one; occasionally he sits at the edge and bounces a little. Bucky trails beside him and observes with a tiny smirk. Eventually, Steve finds one he likes enough to lay back on.

Bucky drops down beside him and turns his head. “Can we test it out before we buy it?”

Steve chuckles. “I’m not sure they’d appreciate it.”

“That’s only ‘cause they haven’t seen us naked yet,” Bucky reasons.

Within a few weeks the house is entirely furnished and decorated and although they don’t mean for it to happen, it gets harder and harder to leave every time “vacation” is over.

\---

It’s well after midnight on a Friday when Steve comes back from a two-week mission to find Bucky lounging naked in a jacuzzi in the backyard. He stands there gaping for a few minutes before Bucky lifts his head and opens his eyes.

Bucky shrugs. “Impulse purchase,” he says, and waves it off. “Now take your clothes off and put that open mouth to good use.”

“How is this an impulse purchase, exactly?” It’s about one hour and a few hand jobs later. Steve drags his hand out of the water and up through Bucky’s wet hair. He twirls his fingers in at the crown of Bucky’s head and tugs playfully.

Bucky smirks and lets his head fall back with the pull. “We needed caulk for the window in the bathroom, and I figured while I was at Home Depot, I’d pick up the wood stain for the deck.”

He shrugs. “And then I saw the jacuzzis.”

Steve nods. He lets his legs float up and presses his toes into the jets on the other side of the tub for a moment, then brings them down and exhales heavily.

“You don’t mind,” Bucky asks, hesitantly, “Do you?”

“Do I look like I mind?” Steve rolls his head to the side and smiles. “This might be the most relaxed I’ve ever felt in my life, Buck.”

\---

“I think we might have another stray,” Bucky mumbles the next morning. They’re in the front yard, Steve’s watering the lawn while Bucky sits on the stoop sipping coffee from a City Island Nautical Museum mug.

“You sure it’s not the same one from under the deck?” Steve asks through a giant yawn. He snorts recalling the small tabby cat that had come running out a few weeks earlier, scaring them both nearly half to death.

“No, different one.” Bucky gets up and nudges his mug at Steve, pulling his attention away from the lawn.

Steve follows Bucky’s line of sight and nods. “Yeah, that’s not the same one.”

Steve turns off the hose and coils it back up onto its hook.

“I’m no expert, but I’m pretty sure it’s considered rude to move out and not tell the people you live with,” Natasha says as she approaches the gate to the front walk.

“We didn’t move out,” Steve replies, and even though it’s the truth, Bucky thinks there’s something slightly off in the way it feels.

Natasha doesn’t stay long, doesn’t even come inside. They take a walk down the main avenue to get ice cream. Steve tells her about the different shops they pass, Bucky points out boats with hilarious names at one of the marinas, they tell her about the work they’ve done to the house and the shape it was in when they found it. When they return to the front lawn, Bucky and Natasha sit on the stoop and watch as Steve finishes watering plants in the front yard.

“You’re happy here,” she says quietly. A statement, not a question.

Bucky looks at Steve with a small smile. “Yeah,” he nods, “Yeah we are.”

“Hey Buck,” Steve calls over, “Would you turn the water up a bit?”

“Be right back.” Bucky heaves himself off the stoop.

As soon as Bucky’s back is turned, Steve winks at Natasha and lifts the hose, aiming the stream right at Bucky’s back. Natasha laughs as Bucky gives an undignified yelp, his back arching as the water soaks through his t-shirt. Steve keeps spraying, though the stream is unsteady due to this laughter.

“Oh, Rogers, you’re gonna get it,” Bucky rasps, though there’s a grin on his lips as he turns and hurls himself back towards Steve.

Natasha quickly leaps up and away from the line of fire as they grapple with each other, water spraying everywhere. Bucky finally manages to wrestle the nozzle away from Steve, who’s laughing too hard to have much strength left. He pinches at Steve’s ribs, tickling him for distraction, then Bucky shoves the nozzle into Steve’s pants and sprays. Steve howls, but they’re both still gasping with laughter.

\---

That night, Bucky’s asleep almost instantly, collapsing on his stomach, half on top of Steve. Hours go by and Steve is still lying awake staring at the ceiling. He listens to the sounds of the house that he’s gotten used to, the whispers of wind outside the window. He takes a deep breath and lets it out. He decides to try sleep again, closes his eyes, and then feels Bucky’s finger dip into his ear and shudders, shoulder shrugging up against his chin.

Bucky snorts quietly. Steve can feel Bucky’s chest hitch with silent laughter against his shoulder. He turns his head on the pillow to see bright eyes and a sleepy smile facing him in the moonlit room.

“Sorry,” Steve mumbles. “Did I wake you up?”

Bucky shrugs a shoulder. “How? You didn’t say anything.”

Steve’s lips quirk at the corners. “You used to say I kept you up by thinking too loud.”

“Definite possibility then.” Bucky smiles. “Penny for your thoughts?” he cards his fingers softly through Steve’s hair.

“Just _one_ penny?” Steve teases.

Bucky laughs. “Penny and a blow job?”

“Just _one_ bl–”

Bucky laughs and pokes his finger into Steve’s ear again.

“Quit it.” Steve squirms, grabbing at Bucky’s hand and clasping it to his chest.

“Tell me,” Bucky says quietly.

Steve sighs and turns his head on the pillow. Bucky raises his eyebrows expectantly.

Steve shrugs slightly. “I want to live here,” he says.

Bucky buries his face against Steve’s shoulder, but Steve can feel him laughing again. “Christ, Steve, is that all?”

“Wha–Hey, it’s a big deal and, Buck…” He pauses and waits for Bucky to look up at him, “It’s not just my decision.”

Bucky just stares at him, grinning, and from the corner of his eye, Steve sees a hand coming up near the side of his face.

“Don’t you put that finger in my ear,” Steve grits out, laughing as he grabs Bucky’s hand, flips them over and begins a tickle assault on Bucky’s ribs.

“Okay! Okay!” Bucky gasps, giggling helplessly as he curls into himself trying to ward off Steve’s hands, “I’ll stop, I promise!”

Steve gives one more pinch, settles himself on top of Bucky and pushes his tousled hair out of his eyes. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

Bucky shrugs a shoulder. “Didn’t want you to do it just for me.”

\---

They keep the apartment at the Tower — would be silly not to, since they’re sure to use it every so often. They promise to visit, and neither of them are sure why everyone makes it seem like they’re leaving the country.

“Might as well be,” Tony cries, “It’s the fucking Bronx. Who the hell leaves a luxury high rise in Manhattan to go live in the fucking Bronx?”

They also promise to invite the team out for an official house-warming some time soon. In hindsight, they probably should have realized that “some time soon” should have been a specified date and time.

Saturdays quickly become lazy days. Afternoon rolls into early evening and like clockwork, Bucky casts a sidelong glance at Steve, smiles and wriggles his eyebrows in a way that makes Steve snort and cackle.

“Way to kill a mood, pal,” Bucky teases, tugging Steve along with him toward the door to the backyard.

Steve snorts purposefully this time, but then grabs the hem of Bucky’s t-shirt and yanks it over his head, tossing it into laundry room. They quickly divest each other of the rest of their clothes, managing to land most of them in a pile on the laundry room floor.

“I’m getting in the hot tub,” Bucky laughs, against Steve’s mouth, “Put on Miles Davis.”

Steve nods and pushes Bucky out the door. The week before, they’d installed a stereo system in the house, then wired and mounted speakers outside, so they could listen to music while soaking in the jacuzzi.

Steve slips into the tub and wraps his arm around Bucky’s waist, moving them both to the center of the tub and dipping them low so the water almost covers their shoulders. They make out slowly while _Blue In Green_ plays in the background and the jets bubble all around them. Bucky’s pretty sure this is as good as it gets.

After a while, there’s a lull in the music that goes on for longer than it should. Or maybe it just takes them some time to notice it’s gone quiet.

“I guess the playlist ended,” Steve murmurs.

“Kinda miss it,” Bucky whispers, wrinkling his nose. “Do you mind if I go reset it?”

Steve grins. “Better you than me.”

Bucky pinches his ass and climbs out of the tub.

“Make sure you close the door behind you,” Steve calls. “Don’t wanna let the mosquitos in.”

“Quit naggin’ me or I’ll lock you out, Grandma,” Bucky teases. Forgoing the towel, he slips into the house, pushing the door closed behind him.

He heads over to the stereo and starts fiddling around with the iTunes playlist he’d made earlier, adding a few more songs, deleting some that didn’t work for him. He’s about to save and head back outside when there’s a knock at the front door.

Bucky smiles and heads over to open it. “I didn’t actually lock you ou–” He freezes, his mouth just slightly open when he sees Natasha, Clint, Sam, Tony, Pepper, Bruce, and Thor standing at the front stoop, gifts in hands.

“Well,” Natasha says with a slight smirk, “Looks like we picked a good time.”

“Hey, Buck, are you coming back?” Steve calls out from the back of the house. “Buck?” He calls again, then steps into the main hall, just as naked as Bucky is.

“Oh, Jesus Christ,” Steve mutters when he sees the team at the door.

“For the record,” Sam comments, “I’d like it to be acknowledged that I said we should call first.”

“Well,” Tony says, brushing past everyone and into the house, “Aren’t you going to invite us all in?” He pushes a bottle of wine into Steve’s hands and wanders into the kitchen.

“So great to have you all here,” Steve says with a genuine smile that Bucky can’t imagine how he manages. “I’m going to go put on some clothes.”

He swats Bucky bare ass hard enough to make him jump, and walks off to the bedroom.

Natasha hands Bucky a bouquet of flowers as she brushes past, patting him on the shoulder. He holds them low, covering himself as best he can. Pepper, Sam, and Bruce nod politely, smile and keep moving, Thor pulls Bucky into a giant bear hug, crushing the flowers against him and patting him on the back before holding him at arms length.

“You seem most at peace, my friend,” Thor says warmly.

“Thanks.” Bucky smiles weakly.

Clint is still standing on the front stoop. They nod evenly at each other in greeting. Bucky turns to head toward the bedroom, still clutching the flowers in front of him, when he feels the heavy thwack of a palm across his left ass cheek.

Bucky freezes mid-step and turns around, eyes bulging, to look at Clint.

“I honestly just wanted to see what you’d do,” Clint says with a smirk, then puts his hands up and darts away when Bucky’s face turns mutinous.

\---

It’s past three in the morning by the time everyone decides to call it a night. And it’s a good night, despite its awkward beginnings.

A small part of Bucky had been dreading the idea of letting other people disturb the little bubble he and Steve had managed to carve out for themselves, but as their friends slowly make their way to the front gate and say their goodbyes, he realizes that things aren’t nearly as fragile as they once were.

They clean up, shower and slide into bed, Bucky flopping down heavily on top of Steve.

“We should do that again,” Steve murmurs, sleepily running his fingers through Bucky’s hair. “Obviously planned in advanced and fully clothed from the beginning.”

“Clint touched my ass,” Bucky mumbles into Steve’s neck.

Steve laughs. “What?”

“Slapped it. Hard. Left cheek.” Bucky yawns. “Stung.”

“Aww, do you need me to kiss it better?” Steve whispers.

Bucky lifts his head with a wide grin. “Yes,” he nods. “Yes, I do. Do it now.”

Steve rolls them over, smiles down at Bucky in the dark, presses their foreheads together, closes his eyes and stills.

“What are you smiling at?” Bucky whispers.

“I’m just…” Steve shrugs, opens his eyes. “Happy we’re home, Buck.”

**Author's Note:**

> Come find me on [tumblr](http://sheisraging.tumblr.com) and be amazed at how many photos of Chris Evans I can reblog in one week!


End file.
